On the Power of Words

This is one of those subjects that could fill books, and has. This is how my summer has felt: my mind wanders from endless subject to endless subject and I feel like there is always more that could be pondered, thought, or said. So hopefully it’s ok that I’m choosing to write just a few reflections; just know that I know this is merely a scratch on a very large surface.

Until this week I hadn’t posted in two months. Those months have flown by actually, filled with weddings and birthdays and everyday adventures. I’m working full-time now, too, which is way more time consuming and exhausting than people voluntarily admit. In so many ways this has been a summer dripping with the goodness and provision of God, as I have gotten to spend time with people I love and jump into this new chapter of my life.

And yet I often am finding myself at a loss for words. Which isn’t great when a huge part of your job depends on finding the right words to use. Friends from back home ask me how life in Grand Rapids is, or my housemates ask me how work is going and I freeze. I listen to and read local, national, and world news and I draw a blank. What is there to say that isn’t already being said? How can I use language to enrich the lives of people around me, to say something that is both truthful and insightful? My job is fine, but why? Grand Rapids is lovely in the summertime, but why? Wedding planning is the most exciting and stressful thing I’ve ever done in my life, but why?

There is so much noise in the world, so many people who talk just for the sake of talking. Words are tossed around like flakes in a snow globe, blurring reality and agitating emotions. It doesn’t help that we’re in an election year.

I don’t know the exact moment when I learned how powerful words could be, but I know it was a long time ago. My dad reads voraciously and has passed this on to my brothers and I. We have read so much as a family and as individuals, and are living proof of what reading can do to expand one’s vocabulary. Unfortunately that also means that we are especially skilled in using words as weapons. I don’t want to over-dramatize because our family is not especially riddled with conflict or anything, but when conflict arises in the normal course of life together we all have language in our arsenal. I have witnessed firsthand the power of language to humble, shame, ridicule, or defeat, and I have become an expert myself.

In light of all of these things, I often get overwhelmed by the immense damage we can do with our words. I fear the damage I have done and could do by speaking when I don’t have anything in particular to say. For every time I have consciously chosen to use words against someone else, I have subconsciously spoken or written just to draw attention to myself. Writing is my “thing.”

And yet.

Just because I have (and no doubt will continue to) used words poorly and for the wrong reasons at times doesn’t mean I should just quit using them all together. Welcome to the broken and the beautiful. As a Christian I believe that until Jesus returns, the broken and the beautiful will coexist. The broken may taint or even hide the beautiful, but Jesus promises that darkness will not win.

So those who follow Him are free to muddle through and say the wrong words sometimes and mistakenly fill sacred silence. Using language for the glory of God takes practice, especially in a world that provides so many examples of the opposite.

Yes, words have the power to break, to wound, to destroy, to weaken. But they also have the power to heal, to build, to empower, to strengthen. Our world needs more of these kinds of words, for silence cannot drown out hatred, and only light can drive out darkness.

On Story-Telling

One of the hardest tasks in communicating with friends and family back home about my time here in Ghana is that of telling stories that accurately and fully represent my experiences here. As is true in any culture and any context, there is both beauty and brokenness to be found in abundance.

My instinct is to attempt to drown out the narratives of an impoverished African continent and to highlight the countless hardworking individuals we have met. There is certainly wealth to be found here in Ghana, a country that has enjoyed relative political stability and has benefited economically from long-standing ties to European countries, adopting many facets of modern Western culture, for better or worse. Ghanaians exude pride for their cultures and their country, eager to share their foods, customs, and languages with newcomers.

But Ghanaians are also quite willing to share the short-comings of their beloved country. Power outages are a daily occurrence throughout most of the country these days, and many Ghanaians are struggling under the weight of a stagnant economy. Most qualified teachers refuse to report to schools in very rural areas due to lack of access clean water and basic covered latrines. Parents in many coastal villages and towns don’t prioritize their children’s education because they assume their children will become fishermen and wives of fishermen, two “professions” which don’t require a formal education. These children are particularly vulnerable to enslavement by fishermen from Lake Volta who are looking for cheap labor. And the list goes on.

It has been a humbling experience to hear Ghanaians talk about this country, and I feel like many of them have mastered this art of being fiercely proud of all the good things that can be found here while maintaining sufficient objectivity to critique that which is going poorly. I don’t think many Americans can do both of these things well. In general, I think we tend to have one or the other—a ferocious nationalism for some and a bitter disillusionment for others. I think the attitude of the Ghanaians I have spoken with is probably healthier; there are some aspects of life in the U.S. that are undeniably wonderful and I miss them dearly, and there are other things that I’ve actually rather enjoyed doing without.

I do not consider myself an artist, but if I were forced to claim a medium, it would be that of the written word. Language is a powerful tool and the sentences we choose may perpetuate or challenge the attitudes of others. I would be failing those who are suffering here in Ghana if I avoid telling their stories, and I would be failing those who have succeeded here in Ghana if I forget to tell theirs, too. I do not want to write sentences that are beautiful if they are not also true. It is a dangerous balancing act, and I am thankful that the hope and future of this country rests in the hands of Someone who knows and loves these people far more deeply than I ever can.

On the Already and Not Yet

The past year and a half has been one of ever-increasing intensity. In the past year I have found myself clinging to my writing more than ever; not as my savior, but as a key method for self-expression.

I write because seeing my words on paper forces me to deal with the reality they describe. 

I write because I have to figure out how organize my thoughts lest they get in the way of one another.

I write because I cannot voice my feelings until I understand them myself. 

I write because I want to be understood. 

I write because I want others to know that they can be understood. 

I write because sometimes I need to be reminded of my own convictions, and having a record of them is helpful in these darkest moments.

As a Christian, and especially at Advent, I live in this space that Reformed folk call the “already and not yet.” Jesus—the savior and healer of the whole world—has already come and has begun his redeeming work in the world, and yet the brokenness of this world has yet to be eradicated. In this time of waiting, we recognize that we are anticipating the joy of Christmas, and yet we are also anticipating the joy of the coming of the new heavens and the new earth, when the world will be restored once and for all. 

This is not an easy place to be in. We revel in the beauty that can be found in faithful friends, brilliant snowfalls, gentle rains (in Michigan we can get these within 24 hours of each other), delicious food, and good books. And yet we cannot ignore the pain of death, of broken relationships, of poverty, of icy winds, of the tangible evil that moves in this world. 

To quote my incredible mom, in times like this our only hope is in the knowledge that our heartbreak is just a pale reflection of God’s broken heart. But with God we know that he has power to move and heal our tired world. And through the story of Christmas we know that he is doing just that.

Why blog?

I have been addicted to writing ever since I learned how to form words into sentences. Perhaps some of this addiction can be attributed to my lack of artistic talent from a very young age; words were the only medium with which I could paint anything comprehensible. My head was full of stories and ideas, and writing gave me an outlet by which to share them. I loved to write because it was fun. Ever an extrovert, I loved the excitement of meeting new people through the creation of characters. Exposed to travel from an early age, writing enabled me to envision new adventures in places I had to see.

Writing is more than a source of joy for me, however; it is also my therapy. Writing allows me to process the brokenness I see and experience. I have always said that I can never move past a painful event until I have written about it. When I write I am forced to slow down and process what has happened and how I feel about it. In a world filled with music and games and television and movies that are all accessible at our finger tips, I have found myself more tempted and more able to escape that process of healing then ever before. Why stop to journal when I can sit on my computer and click countless meaningless buttons to be distracted from that which is silently killing me inside?

But none of this answers the question of why I would decide to add my words to the ever-growing “blogosphere.” There are certainly enough writers out there to instigate discussion of all kinds, many of them far more qualified and established than myself. The fundamental question here I suppose is, what does a 20-year-old, white, female college student, who has never lived for more than a month outside of the state in which she was born, have to add to an increasingly complex and interconnected world? My answer: probably not much. I have no mind-blowing solutions to the myriad of problems humanity faces today. I am not an expert in anything. I have not travelled the world doing research of any kind.

The only thing I have to offer to the world is me.

My experiences individually are not unique. But as a whole, this life is mine. No one else has lived the exact way I have or felt the same exact feelings towards my own experiences. My particular placement in this world is just mine.

But really, why am I blogging?

Well at the most basic level, I am leaving an editorial and writing position at my college’s newspaper and already miss putting my work out there. Sure, it’s stressful and nerve-wracking to submit your work for the criticism of an entire community, but there is simultaneously a tremendous pleasure that comes with the knowledge that your work has purpose. From receiving text messages from friends saying they saw someone reading one of my articles to overhearing discussions begun by my simple musings, it was a delight to know that even I–with no prior journalism experience and no college degree–could impact the ways in which those around me viewed the world. To put it most simply and perhaps crudely, my writing can’t possibly change the world if no one reads it, and I love the feeling of having my writing read.

A second reason, that is perhaps the result of rationalizing away my hesitations in regards to the first reason, is that I have seen the good that can come from human vulnerability and honesty. This is an intensely complex reality that I have struggled with for years. This is true in part because being vulnerable inevitably results in pain sometimes. Furthermore, some people should not be trusted when you are most vulnerable. The reality of living in a broken world results in both of these truths and must be acknowledged without reservation.

These are not, however, the only truths there are in regards to vulnerability and honesty with others. When we share our weaknesses, our struggles, our fears with those around us, we have the opportunity to share the burden of these things. The construction of community in times of hardship is absolutely essential to defeating the loneliness that accompanies suffering. Furthermore, when we share the lessons we have learned–either through hardships or just through life in general–we have the opportunity to be a blessing to others. I do not say this out of pride or self-righteousness, but out of humility and awe. I have seen the grace and power of God work through my willingness to just tell my story; I just have to get out of the way and let God reveal himself and his work as is visible in my twenty years of life.

I am honestly very unsure of where this blog will go or for how long I will maintain it, but I very firmly feel the call to write more publicly for this season of my life, so write I shall. Thank you for your participation and company on this journey for however long it shall be.